Bitten

Y'all... He nearly bit my n.pple off. Seriously. He has my big horse teeth up top, and sharp little teeth on the bottom. He didn't do it on purpose. I had him in bed with us in the later wee hours of the morning...both of us were dosing. He was dosing while nursing though, and apparently forgot what he was doing and chomped down.

I screamed awake, grabbed my boob, woke Hotness up, and MySon was startled but went back to sleep (why can't he do that well when he's on his own?). As I was getting ready a little later that morning, there were quite the little teeth marks with dried blood.

Oof, it's easy to see why people wean sooner if they have a persistent biter.

----
Our sleep woes continue. Up every hour last night*. I revisited the notion of letting him cry...I always do with nights like that. If he's going to wail in my arms, I might as well let him wail in his crib? (Though he usually still settles down in my arms, whereas the crib...not so much)

Is it normal for them to cry for like, 2 hours straight with no sign of stopping while training? I get all this resolve to let him learn to fall asleep on his own, and then he just stands in the corner of his crib wailing for forever. I've read some mama's mention that you have to just let them cry for as long as it takes...that it takes a few days to work itself out?

Part of me is trying to determine if, at 9 months old, my son should be napping on his own and sleeping through the night...and since he's not, if I'm going to cause him to have serious issues. Or maybe I'm just nervous about holidays with family and being pointed at and talked about because he still naps with me, and has been so very difficult in the night the last few months. I really suck at this whole parenting thing.

*I should mention we are on week 3 of my not nursing him every time he wakes up. I only nurse around 3am, and the other times I just hold him and rock him back to sleep.
----
23 months this month. I'm perplexed by the holidays this year. I'm deliriously excited for Christmas with MySon. I loved Christmas...and then MyStar died. And I still love it really. But how to give MyStar her own special time for us to think about her and not just be all high on glitzed out lights with Santa shooting snow out his ass. How to create traditions that include her.

Speaking of traditions. I want to make our holiday stockings. I don't know whether to make one for MyStar or not. Part of me adamantly says absolutely. Another part says to not be the weird family who has a stocking for their dead daughter. I hate caring. I miss some of the raw intensity that made me not care in those early months...kinda fucked up to say. It made it easier for me to make decisions about how to include MyStar.

----
Wishing everyone some moments of peace as the holidays are near.

Fixing things

Every essence of my being wants to say something profound and something worth producing a deep love from him. Every night I wish I had the words to fix it all. We finish watching whatever mindless sludge, and go lay in bed to sleep. Or we read a few pages in silence before turning the lights out.

We do talk in the dark. It's not all fluff. But it's nothing that ever fixes the deep hole we are still in.If I could just arrange my words just right. Or wear just the right thing. Or keep house perfectly clean.

I honestly think this at times. All of my own volition...never by anything he's said.

And it's not just mindless words in the right arrangement...I mean what I'm trying to say. I love him with every breath and pump of my broken heart. But I don't know how to fix anything.

I know he has a deep love for me too, somewhere in there. He just can't feel it, and neither can I.

Brain Dump

This is a bunch of miscellaneous thoughts really. Nothing cohesive or unified.

----
Playdate family (old high school nemesis-turned-"friend", 3 year old girl, and 8 month old girl) are causing me to possibly rethink playdates. The mom is friendly and amiable. The 8 mo. old is considerably behind MySon's milestones, but I think she's just chill and laid back - All in her own time. But really the problem is the 3 year old. She is just mean. To MySon, to her mom, sister, and any friends that come over. The mom doesn't set boundaries and there are no consequences to hitting people or screaming at people or anything. The mom literally just says, "Oh stop it." and that's it. The girl sits on MySon, pushes him, and made him cry by screaming in his face*. Where am I? Trying to prevent her from doing all this, but I feel conflicted because I thought her mom would actually do something. Her response to 3 year old is, "I can't wait til MySon is old enough to hit back." Ummm...not on my agenda of things I'm teaching my son. I'm a bit side swiped by the realization that I have to parent around other parents or their lack of parenting (I'm a little slow I guess). My questions is this: How do I handle this without burning bridges and cutting ties with the only playdate option we have? I don't want MySon to learn to be mean because of this girl. I've thought about saying, "If you keep hitting MySon, we'll have to leave." The mom is the type that will be offended easily though. But my job is to raise and protect my son, so he comes first.

Have you dealt with similar scenarios? What did you do or say? I ask for your wisdom :)


*I've never had a 3 year old though, so maybe this is normal and just a phase?
----
I've been asked to teach art to a group of kids...a family of 5 children from late elementary to early junior high. They are homeschooled, and their mom has seen my art and has some sort of absurd trust in my skills. Thing is, I do not have the gift of teaching. It's a paid thing though, and only as often or as little as I want. There's really not a lot of pressure in regards to perfection or curriculum even. I think it could be fun. I guess if it exposes them to different mediums and helps them be more creative thinkers, then it's worth it.

----
Day of the Dead is around the corner. I want to dress up for halloween and paint my face like a sugar skull. DoD is my new favorite holiday...or close to it. I love Christmas the most, but it has mixed emotions for me since MyStar died so close to it. DoD is fresh and new and represents a chance to celebrate and remember her. We do swaps and there is an unabashed notion that it's okay to remember. Maybe that's silly. I don't know.

----
I updated MyStar's grave this past weekend. Little baby pumpkins and new flowers.

----
MySon is growing so fast. It makes me sad. And delighted. We are dealing with terrible sleep, and separation anxiety. I feel needed. And smothered. Parenting after loss is such a dichotomy of joys and cursings. "He splashed in the tub...he's so cute, perfect and wonderful!"..."For the love of God play for 3 seconds by yourself so I can go to the bathroom." I complain on twi.tter or fb, but really, everything he does is something to celebrate...the hard stuff is endurable because he's alive and breathing. It always comes down to that.

----
I got together with two BLM's this past week back in BigCity. It was so refreshing. They get me.

I got together with two shadow babies & their parents, born the same week MyStar was due. I breathed and watched them. Wondering. But I didn't cry. They touched me as they passed to get a toy, or patted MySon on the head. "What could have been" is there, but not the focal point.

----
So thankful for the recent project created for this community. Really beautiful and makes me feel like I can finally "meet" some of the brilliant women I've been following and connecting with these past two years.

Marriage

I'll follow-up my previous emotional vomit of a post with an answer to Esperanza's question she posted in the comments, "Do you mind my asking what has caused that? Was it stress from the death of your daughter or has something more recent been plaguing you both? "


Short answer, 2009 was the year from hell before MyStar died. Her death just overshadowed everything else that went on that year. Stress from her death - most definitely. But that opened us up to realizing childhood issues, possible family depression for Hotness, and the need we had for each other that suddenly wasn't there.


----
Long answer, 3 main things made 2009 terrible:
We moved in January to our new city. New jobs. Stress in and of itself.


In March, Hotness watched as his families farm was auctioned off. His dad and uncles and aunts were part of a family co-op. After his grandpa died, the uncles and aunts wanted out. His dad was the only one farming it anyway (Hotness and his three brothers grew up farming it all). But they wouldn't sell it to his dad. So they auctioned it off. Total back stabbing family shit that has never been resolved really. One aunt acknowledged what a shit move that was. Everyone else pretends it never happened. Hotness and his brothers are still hurt, and his Dad and Mom are still figuring out what life looks like if they aren't farming.


I've never admitted this next bit publicly. It haunts me, and makes me wonder about karma. I had an emotional affair with a man at work. It was my first full time job. I was excited to find a friend at work. 8 hours together ushered in good talks. He eventually tried to kiss me. I pushed him away. Later he tried again. And I didn't push him away. It was never more than that kiss. I told Hotness the next day (in June). I resigned from my job stating stress as the reason for leaving.


He never told his wife. We were pregnant a month before them. And they got to bring home their baby.


Hotness and I did counseling. He forgave me. He has never held it against me...never in the most intense fights has he ever brought it up or thrown it in my face. Never. 


And in December MyStar died.


----
I hate myself for my obvious role in making a huge part of that year hell. I was stupid and foolish. I hate admitting it to you because I feel like scum. But it happened, and I'm being honest, and if you look down on me from now on, I understand. I wonder if on some super biological level something from all that bad energy and sobbing made my body reject my placenta. Dealing with one more thing was just too much. Or if just being bad equaled my daughter dying. I don't think about it on a daily basis, but a small part of my irrational self believes I caused her to die because I was a terrible person.


----
Hotness struggles with the fact that he did EVERYTHING right. He got a job he wasn't thrilled with that year, he helped me find friends, he forgave me, he was excited to have a baby. And it all got demolished. Our really generic explanation of our faith that we grew up with is that if we do what is right, we'll be blessed. Well, MyStar dying was certainly not a blessing. His wife's infidelity was not a blessing. His family farm being sold was not a blessing. So even to this day, he still is figuring that out. Add that depression runs in his family. He had a really terrible stint with his depression meds. Scared me...scared him. So he's not on any right now.


And then there's me, who can't forgive myself for my stupidity. For not knowing my daughter was dying. I add plenty to this unhappy mix.


And grief just pulled us apart. I couldn't depend on him to hold me up, and he couldn't depend on me to hold him up in his toughest moments. I became connected to bloggers and other women in the city. We didn't understand where the other was at. And still don't on most days. We talked about divorce. But we were already pregnant again and that wasn't an option. I think we both considered suicide at various points (and this is all over a year ago...right at the 6 months out from MyStar's death).


But we're at a more stable spot for the most part. We aren't really that much closer. We don't really know how to move forward in an attempt to try and get back to the power duo that we were before. We just tuck the difficult elements away and focus on MySon and keeping the peace.


----
How's that for a long answer? And some serious heavy baggage that you probably didn't need to read. Part of me feels really ashamed for laying it all out there. But part of me feels lighter too for finally allowing the full truth to be a part of my grief. 

Obligation

I feel hounded.

My dad and his wife want to come to see us, again. My stepdad wants to come see us. My mom and her husband always want to see us. My grandparents always want to see us. My inlaws want to see us.

I complain about being lonely, but I also appreciate my space. I appreciate the chance to choose who and what we do, instead of doing things out of obligation. I feel loved by our families. I appreciate their willingness to travel and make time to see us. But it often feels overwhelming.

Until I was 13, I grew up with a single mother. My parents divorced when I was young. My mom couldn't afford daycare or many babysitters. I often went to work with her, and sat in the break room reading or drawing...anything that was quiet and made me mostly invisible. I learned to only speak when spoken to. I learned to jump when people said to jump, so as to be as small of an inconvenience as possible.

I started high school in Kansas. A new transplant from the big city. My mom was newly remarried, we were new to Smalltown, and I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was innocent and naive and gullible. I learned to continue to try and be mostly invisible. To try and be as little an inconvenience as possible.

----

I think there are elements of how I grew up that are positives for sure. But I feel like I grew up learning how to be a really great doormat to all the other people in the world. It's what made me an insecure artist. It's what made me feel tired and overwhelmed in being around people. Whatever my ingrained genetic personality was as an introvert, was doubled by the environment that I grew up in. It was exhausting catering to everyone else's needs. Throw in my religious upbringing to be a servant, and I was the best goddamn doormat you ever saw.

Serving others, in and of itself, is not a bad thing. Being intuitive and sensitive to how others might perceive something you do, is not a bad thing. But when it's all unbalanced, when there's no self care, or protection of self, and you lose who you are or are insecure in yourself because of it all...then it's a bad thing.

----

Hotness started the process of helping me deconstruct my self image, my way of social interaction and lack of self care. He cared about me. How I felt about things. How things effected me. He helped protect me from myself. He taught me to start saying no.

MyStar's death blew the lid off everything though. Who gave a fuck what so and so thought about this or that? My daughter died and that's all that mattered. My art came alive out of her death. I still felt dead...do still feel dead some days. But her dying helped me to observe that if I didn't cater to everyone else's needs at that time, it wasn't going to be the end of the world. That I could be a little selfish and take care of me. And I slowly learned to take care of me and Hotness again. And I'm learning to take care of me, Hotness and MySon.

----

But I have all these peripheral family units to balance too. Coming up on two years out from MyStar's death means I should be healed and able to handle life and be my old self again. I can be the doormat that I was again. I feel the pull to be that again.

Hotness and I aren't even close to being ok. Our marriage is still in shambles. We just neatly stack all the pieces in a corner so that we don't stumble on them all the time. We watch n.etflix or h.ulu every night, because it helps keep us distracted. We do talk. We have hard talks. But we have no answers. None. At all. So instead of focusing on having no real direction to go, we fix our house, watch tv shows, play and love on our son, and try not to do anything to totally destroy our marriage.

The close proximity of my family adds a huge element of stress. My dad has a debilitating mental illness, which makes visits from him difficult and stressful, and add that I'm not a big fan of his wife. I know all families have quirks and difficulties, so I won't go on and on about what all mine are.

But I say all this because I feel guilty. I feel hounded. I feel like I should be able to say no, but then I'm not a good daughter, or a good person. I feel rather evil most days actually. How I really feel goes against EVERYTHING that I grew up learning and believing.

Our society, and rightly so, values and respects people who give of themselves to fill a need or serve or make sacrifices. I don't want to fill a need, or serve, or make any sacrifices. I just don't want to. I want to try and fix my marriage. I want to take care of my son.

Saying all that feels like I am abandoning my family. They made sacrifices for me. They made time and had energy for me. Don't I owe them that back?

----

I'm feeling really tired and down right now. About everything I said above.

About MySon being at a point that we need to figure out sleep stuff. I'm embarrassed to say that he'll only take a nap with me...nursing. He sleeps in his own crib at night, after being nursed to sleep. I have allowed it this long because I love cuddling him. He's growing so fast, and I want to savor these moments. But when we travel or need to be out of our normal routine, it's difficult because I can't just lay him down.

Some nights I feel like forcing him will be bad. That he'll progress on his own. That's how he made it to sleeping in his own crib. And other nights I want to pull my hair out because it can sometimes take two hours for him to be fully out. And with all these new developments he's waking himself up more and needing my help to go back to sleep.

I guess I'm more AP than other "brands" of parenting. I'm not super comfortable with CIO. But somedays it seems like the best thing to try. I've read the main sleeping books that everyone throws around to try. I'm either dimwitted and can't implement something correctly, a big wuss for not being able to allow him to CIO, or cold hearted* because I want to let him CIO some days.

I'm kind of just sobbing at this point. The last two nights have been mostly sleepless. I just need to stop writing. This has been one big "woe is me" and I'm sorry.



*I should clarify. I realize that some things may work for others that don't work for us. Or that work for us and don't work for others. I go back and forth about where we fit in regards to CIO. I think each family should do what is best for them, and have no judgement passed on them for that. 

Coworker

Hotness works at two banks. One in town for two days a week, and one in a nearby town three days. He does all the computer stuff, and whatever else they throw at him. He's good at it, no matter what he says. He learns fast, and is a good coworker.

One of his colleagues here in town was pregnant. With twins. She got a bad diagnosis for one of the twins. They knew it wasn't going to live for whatever reason. He didn't get complete updates since he works in Town B more often that here in Smalltown...they forget to tell him stuff that happens here. I asked him to ask her, or if I should go in and talk to her. 

Because once I know someone is having a difficult pregnancy, or has had a baby die, I'm all over it. I have resources, and kleenexes, and food and hugs and stories from other people, and on and on and on. I know that's my tendency to be overwhelming, so I didn't go talk to her. And Hotness didn't ask her anything. But I do have a card, and a Greek tear jar painted and ready to give though.

She ended up in BigCity due to complications. The babies were born. The one they knew wasn't going to make it lived for three hours. The other was in the NICU and was brought home recently. They put a letter in the paper, and an obituary.

The bank sign only announced the birth of the one twin. Even though the other was born and lived for three hours.

----

I've never met this woman or anyone in her family. Hotness only interacted with her at work. I know that waiting for newly bereaved parents to ask for help is foolish, but I also don't know that just dropping by with a meal and grief gifts is what they want either. Maybe it is. I don't know.

Her experience is so different than mine, because she still has to focus on her two older kids, and this premie baby. Who knows if she's even had time to fully let the grief wash over? I know dead baby grief, but I don't know dead baby grief amidst other children.

----

Another part of me wants to scream to Smalltown, "It happened to me too. My baby died too." My selfishness disgusts me...shames me. MyStar isn't supposed to be this attention getting ploy. She's just my daughter. And she died.

----

I know baby death in Smalltown is barely talked of, and when it is, it's in ignorance. When I stalked the coworker on fb, everyone was giving her the generic awful advice that we here in the BLM community of come to loathe. It's not really a safe place to talk about dead baby grief. I have a horrific example, but I'm not going to make this space about my town gossip. We've all experienced the stupidity of people. And it's because they haven't learned. But it's made me timid to speak about MyStar. To mention MySon's older sister. That has contributed to my lonliness too.

----

I know this blog will feel darker. I guess I've realized that I've had to hide a lot of my feelings lately on my other blog. I'm not depressed by any means, but there's still a sort of melancholy underneath some days. Leaving friends and being lonely has brought up some of those feelings again, as has drawing closer to December. 

Newness

If you've found your way here, most likely you know me on other social networks and from a very special community. I'd like to maintain my anonymity here, and would request that you not link this blog to my other blog or other networking sites. I will read and comment as my previous blog persona, but this space is to be fully honest and open about all aspects of my life - with no fear of IRL family or friends reading. I started my other blog thinking it was a good idea to be so open and honest with everyone in my life, but ultimately it gets complicated, doesn't it?

----

Living in a small town is hard. I mean, I grew up here. Or rather, I went to four years of high school here. I know people. But I know them as my high school self; as a self involved goodie two shoes who was going to graduate and never come back. I looked down on those who stuck around or who eventually ended up back here. Why would you come back - what was there to attain here?

Of course I was just biased against Smalltown (as I'll further call where I live). I had no problem with other small towns. After marrying Hotness and living on the West Coast, we decided that living in a small town would be ideal. We would do large scale gardening, raise some chickens and other assorted animals, and live sustainably.

I just never ever ever thought it'd be in Smalltown.

----

MyStar died, and I couldn't give a fuck about sustainable living. Anxiety took over MySon's pregnancy, and I didn't have room to think about reintroducing it back into our lives. And then the job in Smalltown opened up. It was more money, better benefits, and a much more financially stable scenario. The cost of living in Smalltown is staggering...incredibly low. Our mortgage for a three bedroom/two bath house is less than what we were paying for a one bedroom/one bath apartment in Bigcity. Everything pointed to it being a very positive move for our family.

The biggest drawback I had was that my mother and her third husband, and my maternal grandparents all live in Smalltown. My mother thinks that we are best friends, when in fact, were are very much not. My grandmother is incredibly emotionally sensitive, which my mother also inherited. Being snarky and taking things personally is expected. Living on the West Coast made it easier to deal with. But living in the same town? A giant weight was lowered onto my shoulders just thinking about it.

But we moved hoping for the best. We set some ground rules about them calling before stopping by, and not expecting us to go to the same church (we don't go anywhere actually) and that we are separate family entities. My mother has tried to "fix" my faith, and would probably be mortified if she knew my full hippie beliefs. Hotness tries his hardest to not interact with them if possible. He's amiable when around them, but as he said the other day, "I didn't move here to be friends with your family."

I also have realized how small minded it was of me to think that people who moved back home were of such a lowly nature in comparison to myself. Maybe I only say that because I'm here now.

----

I'm happy here. Hotness is finally getting into the swing of his job and he seems somewhat happier. But I'm also lonely. And sad underneath the happiness too. All the people I know are older. The people my age are all the kids who were mean in high school, or new transplants who already have their friend groups.

I have made a lot of effort to try and make friends though. I've invited people over. I've invited them to the library kids gathering. The only reciprocation I've gotten is a girl from high school who talked maliciously about one of my best friends when we were in high school. Her youngest is 10 days younger than MySon, and she has a 3 year old too. I invited them over for a play date, and we've done several other things with them, and have a weekly play date set. Who'd have thought it would have worked out? I was so damn determined that people know I had changed from 10 years ago, and I didn't give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe they had grown and changed too. Some don't of course, but even then, it's endurable to hang out with them for an hour or two at an event or whatnot. There are several other women I've tried to get to know, but there is just no interest from them.

I miss my friends in Bigcity. We finally found some people who really got us. There was a great art scene that I was a part of. But MyStar's death also hovered over everything.

----

I don't know how people live near family. It's such a cold hearted thing to say, I know. I have visions of fun sunday brunches or evenings playing games...in creating family traditions. But it never works out that way. My reality is very different. It's difficult and excruciating at times. It could be easier, but I'd just be swayed to be as my family wishes I was, instead of who I really am.